What no one can understand

We must not keep doing
this. The words spill slowly,
with my hand in your hair,
in some lost restaurant
sixty miles from nowhere.

We must not keep doing
such damage to ourselves,
and those we love. The lift
our souls gained at the start
has turned into a gift

we must not keep. Doing
anything together
now holds our life in thrall
to fear, muscles clenched for
the axe we know will fall.

We must not keep doing
this, dear friend. For freedom’s
found not in what we choose,
but rather in the good
we at the last refuse.

A monchielle, written for a friend in a long-distant cafe.
To share with friends at the dVerse Poet’s Pub.

Advertisements

About Andrew Kreider

I'm a poet and musician,transplanted from London, England to beautiful northern Indiana. By day I am a stay-at-home dad with our three kids while my amazingly talented spouse conquers medical school one long shift at a time. At night, I'm a performer and trouble-maker. I love my life.

14 responses »

  1. This was perfectly written. This was me in an el Pollo Loco in Santa Monica, California in early June 2000.This is so spot on, if you were here, I'd buy you a drink. – Mosk

    Reply
  2. A little refusal can go a long way, nice verse!

    Reply
  3. mmm…nice wisdom in this…yes what we choose not to take is often as powerful as what we choose to…tight write…

    Reply
  4. This is such a polished piece, so very intelligent and refined–and what a great wind up! Perfect exit lines. I enjoyed this

    Reply
  5. freedom’s
    found not in what we choose,
    but rather in the good
    we at the last refuse.

    so wise (& difficult to follow through, i think), a well written poem

    Reply
  6. those last couple lines really get me man…thanks for bringing me back here…and for being part of what makes dverse work….

    Reply
  7. Well worth a read and reread, building so well to the end, necessarily truncated.

    Reply
  8. I love this even more now – see first review above and double the admiration and respect. Great job.

    Reply
  9. A road house poem that feels as though it belongs leather bound in a posh estate. Delicious diction that perfectly enunciates the joy and sadness. Gorgeous.

    Reply
  10. This is beautiful:
    “The words spill slowly,
    with my hand in your hair”

    This is so clever:
    “has turned into a gift
    we must not keep” … I love this wording, but then you add a period and “Doing” to the end of the second line to begin a new sentence. However, you also mean this is a gift “we must not keep doing.” You have to give her back.

    Wow, your ending leaves me breathless:
    “but rather in the good
    we at the last refuse” … This is exquisite in its truth.

    Excellent work.

    Reply
  11. “We must not keep doing this” and yet, you sense the inevitable. I do like this a lot.

    Reply
  12. This is beautiful, full of longing. Love that last stanza.

    Reply
  13. Beautiful stuff, very nicely written…

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: